


In the Mirror

by Schaden_freude



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Let Ford sleep, Stan Pines is a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schaden_freude/pseuds/Schaden_freude
Summary: 30 years ago a terrible accident forced two brothers apart. Now that they're reunited, will their fragile relationship survive even the deadliest of demons?
Kudos: 26





	In the Mirror

Night had fallen over the sleepy town of Gravity Falls, and the dark quiet had settled in. 

After wishing Soos and the kids good night, Stanley Pines was just getting ready for some shut eye himself. He brushed his teeth, replaced his dentures, and smiled at the mirror. 

"Looking good, hot stuff!" He said to his grinning reflection. 

Ah, who was he kidding? He was a grumpy, miserly old man living in the middle of an isolated hick town surrounded by supernatural monsters.

Obviously, Stan was living his best life. 

He pulled on a nightshirt that once belonged to his dad. Still smelled like him too. Cigar stench and old cologne. Oddly, it made Stan feel at home. Whatever "home" was. Maybe he should-- 

"Stanley?" 

"Gah!" Stan jumped at the unexpected sound of his name. No one was allowed in his bedroom, but of course normal rules didn't apply to Stanford Pines, who was standing in the doorway clutching a pillow and blanket. 

"What the heck, Ford?!" Stan snapped. "You can't sneak up on people like that!" 

"Sorry. I...need to ask you something." Ford looked exhausted after a hard day of hunting new specimens in the forest with Dipper and Mabel. Clearly, the last thing he wanted to do right now was ask his brother for a favor. The two were still on thin ice with each other. 

"The air conditioner in the basement broke," Ford explained. "And I can't sleep in this heat. Can I sleep up here tonight?" 

"Aren't you super smart?" Stan asked sarcastically. "Why don't you just fix the air conditioner?" 

"Stanley, I wrestled a Gremoblin with my bare hands today," Ford sighed. "I am not wrestling an air conditioner." 

"Alright, alright," Stan waved him off grudgingly. "You can take the spare mattress."  
And with that he pulled his blanket over his head and went to sleep. 

Ford didn't need to ask Stan where the spare mattress was. This used to be his home, after all. Still was, legally. But anyway, Ford pulled the old and dusty mattress out from under Stan's bed. After brushing the dust from it, it looked good as new. Like it had never been used.

Actually, it hadn't. Ford himself had bought this mattress years ago for his old research partner, Fiddleford, to sleep on when they had been working on the portal together. But Fiddleford had quit the project shortly afterwards, so the mattress remained untouched for years. 

Thinking about those long and lonely memories was exhausting, and Ford was already tired. He set the mattress next to Stan's bed, carefully placed his glasses on a shelf, and promptly fell asleep. 

Stan's bedside clock read 6:18 AM when Ford woke up. Weak sunlight streamed through the window, but it was still too early to get any work done. He could definitely use a bathroom though.

For a moment Ford struggled to remember where he was. He hadn't slept in this room in over 30 years, so waking up here was a bit of a surprise. Nevertheless he pulled himself to his feet, not bothering to reach for his glasses, and went to the bathroom. Ford rubbed his eyes and looked at the bathroom mirror. 

CRASH! 

The shattering of glass jerked Stan roughly out of his sleep. 

"I didn't do it--I have an alibi!" He shouted instinctively. A second later, realizing there were no police coming after him, Stan whipped his head towards the source of the crash: the bathroom. 

Oh god. Ford! 

Stan jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom as fast as his arthritic legs could carry him, stopping at the doorway. 

The bathroom mirror was completely shattered. Long, shaky cracks from one large point of impact stretched across it's reflective surface. 

And there was Ford himself, leaning against the door. His whole body was shaking wildly and he was desperately covering his face with his hands. Most startling of all was his right hand--the knuckles were cut and bloody, as though his fist had collided with glass. Blood dripped down to his elbow. 

“Oh my god--Stanford!” Stan rushed to his brother’s side and grabbed his shoulders in a sort of hug. “What happened?! Are you okay?! It’s me, Stanley! Snap out of it!!” 

Despite Stan’s pulling Ford kept his hands at his face--he appeared to be hyperventilating, and sweat covered his forehead.   
“M-My eyes…” Ford groaned. “My eyes, my eyes…”

“What is it? What’s wrong with your eyes?!” Stan pulled Ford’s hands away from his face. “Let me see! I can help!” 

“Stanley--Stanley!” At last Ford looked up at Stan. “My eyes--are they--?!”

“They’re normal, Sixer,” Stan assured him. It was the truth. “There’s nothing wrong with your eyes. What did you--?”

“B-But--the mirror!” Ford pointed at the shattered glass. “I-I saw my reflection, my eyes were--I thought I--I thought he had a hold of me again! I panicked and hit it as hard as I could! I--” 

“Ford!” Stan held his brother tight. “You’re okay now, remember? You’re home. You’re safe. It’s gonna be okay.” He wasn’t used to comforting people, but it was the least he could do now. The truth was, he was scared too. He had never seen Ford so distressed before, not since that night 30 years ago. 

“S-Stanley, I…” Ford found himself hugging Stan back, craving the warmth and affection that he never knew he missed. “Thank you…” 

“Yeah, you’re still paying for that mirror,” Stan smirked, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. 

Ford smiled weakly. “I’m sorry, Stanley. I thought I had sufficient protections against these...nightmares, but…”

“Listen, poindexter. You remember what Dad used to tell you? ‘If someone beats you up, call Stanley. If someone beats him up, call me.’ You remember?”

“Of course I do. He almost got in a fight with that police officer, remember?” 

“Well, the message still stands. I don’t care what kinda freaky supernatural stuff you get into. Nobody bullies my brother except me!” 

Stan grinned triumphantly, and for a moment his confidence was so contagious that Ford almost believed him. 

“We may not have the old man anymore,” Stan continued. “But we still got each other. And brothers don’t let brothers get pushed around.” 

“Stanley, I hate to interrupt your beautiful inspirational speech,” said Ford. “But I’m sort of bleeding all over the carpet.” 

“Oh, dang it, I forgot about that,” Stan stood up and helped up Ford. “C’mon, Sixer, let’s get your hand patched up…” 

“Thank you, Stanley.”


End file.
